Mishenichnas Adar, marbim b’simcha! When the month of Adar arrives, we increase our joy!

Rosh Chodesh Adar, the new month of Adar, began last Thursday night, ushering in a month that, as we see above, should increase our joy. Perhaps we are joyous because it is the month of Purim when senseless hatred is defeated, or the time when we begin to think about Pesach, celebrating our collective liberation from Mitzrayim (Egypt) and the beginning of our journey to Mount Sinai. Not all of the stories are completely joyous, however. During the plagues, and even at the Sea of Reeds lives are disturbed and even lost. At the end of the book of Esther, because the order to kill the Jews could not be rescinded, the Jews were given permission to strike first, killing many. (Esther 9:5). True to all of our experiences, from the youngest to the oldest of us, life is experienced on a spectrum of emotions and actions. While we rejoice that the Jews of Persia survived a frightful time, and the Jews of Egypt were redeemed from bondage, we still hold the sorrowful parts of the story in our hearts. At the seder, we diminish our joy by taking drops of wine out of our glasses in remembrance of each of the plagues. At Purim, we celebrate until we become numb to the distinctions between Haman and Mordachai.

Personally, it is rare that I find myself completely happy and content. Sometimes I reflect on those absolutely soul filling, wonderful times. If I count them, there are probably a handful.  Equally rare, thank God, are the times that I am just completely inconsolable. More often than not, I, like many people, experience life through a mixture of emotions - in happiness, there is a little sadness, as I remember someone who I wish was present, or realize that this is a fleeting moment. In my sadness, there are those who try to bring comfort, the act of which brings me a bit of happiness. 

As I enter into this Adar, I remember Purim last year and am filled with both happiness and sadness. Purim 5780 was the last time we partied and celebrated together without worry, raucously reading the Megillah and sipping drinks together at one of our favorite spots in town - Maine Craft Distillery. Indeed, it was a time of happiness and companionship and celebration. Within that week, however, we entered what turned out to be an extended lock down, forcing us to cut ourselves off physically from those we care about in the name of pikuach nefesh.I know for myself, the time just after Purim was a dizzying frenzy of learning Zoom and converting our Passover celebrations online. Looking back, and a little bit forward, it was and continues to be a time of rediscovery and of finding strengths and creativity we may have never imagined before. 

This year, at this moment, I enter Adar, not by increasing my joy, but with a sense of sadness; the sadness that comes from knowing we will not celebrate the way we have in previous years. This Rosh Chodesh Adar has been tough as I and others mourn the passing of at least four lives who have walked or crossed paths with us over the years. Part of me is angry at the phrase, “when we enter the month of Adar, our joy increases,” and I want to cry out that it is not true - not everybody’s joy is increased at this time! I am now sensitive to those who somehow feel that they’re not ‘living up’ to expectations. When someone wishes us a happy holiday and we feel alone, or a “Happy New Year,” when the future doesn’t look good, I imagine we could feel angry and perhaps even sadder. Here’s my advice to me: embrace all the feelings. Feel sad, feel the grief, know the grief, and don’t be afraid to talk about it. At the same time, know, feel, and embrace the joy - the joy of being alive, the joys that those who died, gave us in life; the joy of challenge, the joy of knowing that we can hold many parts of many stories in our hearts and be okay. The Hamans and the Pharaohs did not destroy us. We survived and we were changed, and we persisted. 

So often I am drawn to the midrash of the Angels singing and celebrating, as the Children of Israel crossed the Sea of Reeds. God, pained that the Egyptians were drowning, asks the Angels to stop, saying, “My children are dying.” Life is so rarely one thing or the other. In fact, it is the blending of everything that makes life alive. 

May you find joy in Adar, and throughout the year and, no matter where you are emotionally right now, may your joy increase.

Shabbat Shalom.